Viva la Ratchet!
by EpsilonPax
Summary: Pre-ROTF. This was written, in a word, because Ratchet is unquestionably awesome, oh and also because I was dared to write it. Complete one-shot, rated for mild language.


**A/N: Pre-ROTF; This was, in a word, largely written because of a dare. Bumbee dared me to write a one-shot for a bot in the movies that, she felt, was depicted rather poorly. In a word, not being a particular fan of said bot, she did not think it was possible to demonstrate how awesome said bot truly is. While this is still a rough, and largely unbalanced draft, it still, I think, suffices as my humble response to such accusations. So, dear Bumbee, now that you have thrown the gauntlet down, I bring you this! Touche! **

**Reviews are always most welcome and appreciated! **

**~~~Epsilon Pax**

**Disclaimer: I, lamentably, own nothing Transformers.**

The bright yellow and white modified medical Hummer barreled down the narrow, dirt road, hugging the path tightly as it rounded the corner; or rather,_ he_ and not it, took the turn at such a reckless speed. Seated in the driver's side, but certainly not driving, was Major William Lennox. As he was jostled around the cab, Lennox couldn't help but toss a nervous glance over to his long time friend, Master Sergeant Robert Epps who occupied the passenger's seat. Epps merely mouthed an obscenity as he narrowly avoided smacking his head against the door.

"Damnit Ratchet…" Epps growled.

"It is haste or a comfortable ride, Sergeant, one or the other. You cannot have both." Ratchet remarked in a distracted though nonetheless frustrated tone.

Lennox lifted a brow, but decided the best thing to do was to remain quiet. Neither Lennox nor Epps knew Ratchet very well, despite the fact that both men had been working closely with the Autobots for several months now. From what both men had witnessed, Ratchet seemed to be one of the mellower—if one could refer to any of the robotic autonomous organisms as mellow—of the group. He was quiet, with a serious streak that was second only to Optimus Prime's. Though, from how both the other Autobot's and Vladimir described the Autobot's Medical Officer, Ratchet was fiercely loyal and protective, and, oddly enough, could at times demonstrate a rather dry wit.

Reflexively Lennox grabbed the armrest as Ratchet topped one of the mountain road's many hills. For a handful of valuable seconds their brief altitude gave them an unobstructed view of the thick, forested valley below; all too clearly could Lennox espy their missing and sorely pressed Autobot companion embroiled in battle. Lennox did a quick head count: there was one Optimus Prime and six Decepticons that surged around the Autobot Leader, each timing their attack so that Prime wasn't allowed even a second's respite. Epps had time to again swear heartily before their view of Prime and the Decepticons was swallowed by the tree line once more.

Ratchet gunned his engine, redoubling his efforts to reach his beleaguered leader. Venting his frustration the medical officer growled, "Stubborn fool! If he isn't in one piece by the time we get there I'm going to personally put him into stasis lock for a month!"

At the pronouncement both Epps and Lennox looked toward each other with wide eyes. This was the quiet, and mellow Ratchet? At the moment he sounded more akin to Ironhide.

"Slaggard thinks that just because he's Prime he can take on every Decepticon by himself!" Ratchet continued, "I ought to disable his vocal processor for a week for this one! Fool! No bot his age, even if he is Prime, should try and take on that many Decepticons alone!"

Epps couldn't help it, even though the situation was dire, it was simply too funny to hear Ratchet complain in such a way. But before either soldier could make a retort, Ratchet had reached the valley below. Here the trees thinned, and all around Lennox could see evidence of battle that only such titanic mechanisms could leave: trees ripped clean out of the earth, deep gouges in the ground that rich red soil spilled out of like gore from a gaping wound. As they drew closer, metallic pieces and plating winked at them through the brush, and Epps' heart nearly sank into his boots when he spotted a particularly large piece of metal that had painfully clear, bright orange flame decals on it.

The seconds crawled agonizingly by, and, far too long for Ratchet's taste, they at last broke free of the trees and into the valley clearing; but three hundred yards away Optimus fought on, the bodies of two disabled Decepticons twitching on the forest floor nearby. As always, when Lennox and Epps dove from Ratchet's safe interior, the first thing that struck the soldiers was the utter deafening cacophony as the titans clashed. Just above the din, Epps could make out the grating voices of the Decepticons as they snarled insults, but notably absent was Prime's velvety octave. Epps figured Optimus' focus was entirely on the four remaining Decepticons—and more pointedly their weapons—rather than exchanging insults; that or, Epps admitted grimly to himself, maybe Prime just didn't have the energy left for it.

Ratchet was on his feet, weapons deployed and at the ready by the time Lennox had barely hefted the NEST issued Sabot round launcher onto his shoulder.

"Remember, " Ratchet intoned quietly to Lennox and Epps, though his piercing blue optics remained locked on the battle, "Do not take a shot unless you can be unquestionably certain of it hitting your intended target." Neither soldier needed to ask why as Ratchet waded into the fray; even with Optimus' unmistakable coloring and Ratchet's own bright armor, it was nearly impossible to line up a shot that wouldn't endanger their Autobot allies.

As Ratchet took aim, Prime managed to terminate yet another of the Decepticons; definitively ripping his opponent's Spark clean out of its chamber and in the same movement, crushing the bright blue orb in his fist.

Epps whooped in encouragement as the Decepticon crumpled, "Bring it! Your punk Decepticon ass ain't got 'nuthin on our Big Man!" Just because Optimus wouldn't, or couldn't, engage in a little trash talking against their foes didn't inhibit Epps from doing so.

But contrary to the Sergeant's exclamation, Lennox could clearly see that Optimus was tiring fast; though still precise, his blows were slowing down, and he had been pushed into the defensive rather than offensive. New dents and deep scratches had appeared throughout his tough exterior, whole metal panels had been torn away as a bright blue liquid—energon, Ratchet had taught them, the lifeblood of their race—seeped through. While he didn't know a great deal about the mechanics of the Autobots, even Lennox could deduce it wasn't a good sign.

Almost sluggishly, Optimus moved to counter one of his opponent's blows, yet as he brought his weapon to bear it left him vulnerable to attack. Together, two of the Decepticons leapt forward at such an opportunity—luckily for Prime, their window of opportunity was abruptly slammed shut by Ratchet. The medical officer knocked the first clean off his feet with one well-placed missile. With a growl the second Decepticon turned to face this new threat—only to get a face full of Ratchet's own impressive cannon. Scarcely had the broken form of the Decepticon fallen to the ground—a jumble and useless heap of metal—than Ratchet rounded on the first, this time driving home his medical saw, seeking out vital and vulnerable wiring and joints, transforming him into another broken and twisted bundle of armor and wiring. Epps had to admit he was impressed; apparently Ratchet was damn and downright scary when he was pissed off. Needless to say, the third and final Decepticon was quickly turned to scrap as Ratchet drove it away from his wounded leader with the business end of his cannon.

Wiping away the blue energon that dripped from his saw, Ratchet allowed himself a last stream of static curses in Cybertronian. Venting the remaining vestiges of his anger, the Autobot allowed himself a moment to take that mental step away from soldier and back to medical officer as he turned to face his leader and the damage done.

There, a handful of strides away from Ratchet knelt Optimus, his arms draped over one of his knees as he leaned slightly forward, his proud countenance titled toward the earth. Slowly Ratchet approached, already beginning preliminary scans, seeking out the extent of Prime's injuries; the medical officer, out of the corner of his optics, discerned the more diminutive figures of Lennox and Epps as they jogged to catch up with him, concern was written all over their features.

Thankfully, from what Ratchet could sense, none of Prime's wounds threatened his Spark—Optimus would not be reunited with the Matrix, not today. Still, Ratchet would be thorough; already he could tell that Prime had lost a great deal of energon, too much for his comfort, and by Ratchet's early estimations it was a combination of older wounds—injuries from a previous Decepticon incursion not two weeks past—along with the sizable loss of energon that had left Optimus so drained.

Surprisingly Lennox and Epps reached Prime's side only a handful of steps after Ratchet, yet as the humans jogged over, Ratchet warned them away, "Major, Sergeant, stop! You must not come any closer!" Ratchet's comparative shout echoed throughout the clearing eerily, and both soldiers jumped at the commanding bark in the medical officer's tone. However, at the sound, Optimus neither flinched or even spared Ratchet a glance, instead he remained unnervingly unmoving, not a single panel in his great frame shifted.

Wary, both soldier's obeyed Ratchet's terse command; Epps even gave their surroundings a confused cursory glance as if to reassure himself that there were indeed no more Decepticons lurking around. There, of course, was nothing other than the trees—which rustled faintly in the light breeze that had sprung up—all was quiet, and more importantly, Decepticon free. Of course, Ratchet was quick to elucidate with a brusque gesture to their immediate surroundings; all around, iridescent energon lay, quietly soaking into the torn earth, glimmering in the languid sunlight.

Following, Ratchet's movements, Epps took a step closer to one of the puddles of the unnatural cerulean liquid, but Lennox grabbed his pack and yanked him back just as Ratchet spoke, "You must not touch that; when brought into contact with your skin, energon can prove to be quite toxic, and as of yet I still do not know the full damage it could inflict on your comparatively fragile nervous system."

"Right," Epps amended, straightening his pack, "You're the boss bot…or rather..." concern darkening his gaze, Epps looked over to Optimus, "…he is." Cautiously, slowly, step-by-step, Epps wended his way around the ground-spattered energon toward Prime, stopping a handful of steps away from Optimus' leg, "Right, Big Man?" Epps' would be jest was strained with his concern; Prime's countenance remained bowed, but he did manage to flick his optics in the human's direction for a brief moment in acknowledgement.

With deft and precise movements, Ratchet performed several quick, more detailed scans and within a handful of long seconds complied and analyzed the results. He could help but flicker his optical lenses in frustration as his processor registered all the data; it appeared that Optimus had some how received a hairline fracture in his Spark casing. It made perfect sense. It was why Prime, even now, seemed to be losing so much energon and was so exhausted. It was also extremely aggravating because on their last encounter with a Decepticon, Ratchet had suspected such a fracture to be forming, but Prime had assured Ratchet that his own internal diagnostics informed him that he was stable and in no danger. Stubborn, old slaggard.

Biding his time until a more appropriate moment arrived in which he could properly vent his anger, Ratchet set about temporarily repairing the damage. With a few grumbles in Cybertronian, Ratchet was able to shift aside the protective panels on Optimus' chest that shielded his spark and delicately began sealing the tiny fissure; through it all Optimus remained silent and unmoving, though that didn't surprise Ratchet in the least, given the amount of energy he was even at the moment losing.

"Is he going to be alright?" Lennox couldn't help but ask, the last time Optimus had needed medical attention on a battlefield, it hadn't turned out too well. Closing up the panels over Optimus' spark chamber, Ratchet took a step away and regarded the humans while Prime utilized the long minutes to regain some of the energy he had lost.

"Yes," Ratchet replied, " Optimus is going to be fine so long as he ceases to be so stubborn."

"It has nothing to do with being stubborn, Ratchet," the deep timber of Optimus' voice, reassuring and powerful, rolled through the air as he spoke up for the first time. A ghost of energy had returned to the Autobot leader, enough for him to finally stand up on his own as he looked over to the scowling medical officer, "I acted as I saw necessarily fit. I could not let our foes continue on unchallenged."

"You couldn't have waited until I caught up with you?"

Just the briefest pauses before Optimus slowly answered, "No, I could not."

In reply there was a stream of deeply grumbled clicks and whirrs as Ratchet muttered to himself in Cybertronian. While nonsensical to Lennox and Epps, Optimus all too clearly understood the rapid stream of curses, not the least of which included a veiled threat that involved wrenches. Now that Ratchet was assured that Optimus wouldn't fall apart in little pieces where he stood, the medical officer fixed Prime with a steely glare, "Stubborn old pile of scrap metal! I really ought to disconnect your vocal processor!" The medical officer growled, the gears of this throat biting audibly together.

For not the first time that day, Lennox glanced up at Ratchet in surprise: this was their stoic, and mild tempered Ratchet? What the soldier couldn't believe was that Prime didn't seem to be in the least offended, and seemed to accept Ratchet's crass tone in relative stride.

"Perhaps I am, old friend." Optimus intoned, flickering his optics once in amusement, "But I have found that it greatly helps to have an equally stubborn medical officer."

"Stubborn am I?" Ratchet narrowed his optics in an impressive glare. And before Optimus could react, or let alone retort, Ratchet closed the distance between them, one arm expertly snapping out and taking hold of Prime by his throat. With quick, deft movements Ratchet sought out only a handful of specific cords located towards the front of Optimus' neck. Both Lennox and Epps heard a faint popping sound, followed by three distinct clicks and then, before Optimus had a chance to pull away, Ratchet let go. Without explanation, the Autobot's medical officer then proceeded to head back toward the road that had brought them there, his pace mild and unconcerned.

Taken aback, Optimus could only lift one hand towards his throat in a futile attempt to re-set the receptors that Ratchet had so expertly disconnected. When he could not, he settled for sliding his battle mask firmly in place and scowling after his medical officer.

Caught between Optimus' building fury and unsure of whether or not to follow Ratchet, Lennox at last called out, "What just happened? What did you just do?"

Even for an Autobot, Ratchet's answering tone sounded all too smug, "Why, I shut off his vocal processor, of course." The medical officer—a safe distance away, Epps noted—at last regarded his none too pleased leader, "Coming, Prime?" Then without another word, transformed and opened both his driver and passenger side doors in a clear invitation for Lennox and Epps.

Epps risked a glance back at Optimus, who returned his gaze with yet another scowl. Plaintively, the solider held up his hands, " I'm sorry, Big Man. But hey, he did warn you." Receiving yet another dark look, Epps turned and jogged to catch up with Lennox, who had already reached Ratchet's side. Unable to do much else, Optimus mutely transformed back into his own terrestrial guise and could only follow Ratchet as he led them back into the tree line.

Once safely back on the road, Lennox risked a glance in Ratchet's rear-view mirror at the hulking form of the Peterbilt that followed them, "I think you seriously ticked him off this time, Ratchet. "

In yet another revelation, Ratchet chuckled softly, clearly not concerned in the least, "Optimus will forgive me."

Joining in on Ratchet's mirth, Epps leaned forward in his seat to give the smooth dash in front of him a few congratulatory pats, "Ratchet?"

"Yes?"

Epps shook his head, his grin nearly taking in his ears, "You win, my man. You win."


End file.
